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Y know, we was always fuckin in cars, or in my crib if she got drunk enough
not to care. Rest of the time, she drift by me like I don t exist.
Did this argument turn violent?
No, I never touched her. Ever. But she start screamin and shoutin and, next
thing I know, she s runnin away. I was goan just let her go, m sayin, let her
cool off and shit? Then I went after her, callin her name.
Then I found her.
He swallowed and placed his hands behind his head. His lips narrowed. He
seemed on the verge of tears.
What did you see?
Her face, man, it was all busted in. Her nose& there was just blood. I tried
to lift her, tried to brush away her hair from her face, but she was gone.
There was nothin I could do for her. She was gone.
And now he was crying, his right knee pumping up and down like a piston with
the grief and rage that he was still suppressing.
We re nearly done, I said.
He nodded and wiped away his tears with a sharp, embarrassed jerk of his arm.
Did you see anybody, anyone at all, who might have done this to her?
No, man, nobody.
And for the first time, he lied. I watched his eyes, saw them look up and away
from me for an instant before he answered.
You sure?
Yeah, I m sure.
I don t believe you.
He was about to give me outraged when I reached across and raised a finger in
warning before him.
What did you see?
His mouth opened and closed twice without producing any sound, then: I
thought I saw something, but I m not sure.
Tell me.
He nodded, more to himself than to me.
I thought I saw a woman. She was all in white, and movin away into the
trees. But when I looked closer, there was nothin there. It could have been
the river, I guess, with the light shinin on it.
Did you tell the police? There had been no mention of a woman in the
reports.
They said I was lyin .
And he was still lying. Even now, he was holding back, but I knew I was going
to get nothing more from him for the present. I sat back in the chair, then
passed him the police reports. We went through them for a time, but he could
find nothing to question beyond their implicit assumption of his guilt.
He stood as I placed the reports back in their file. We done?
For now.
He moved a couple of steps, then stopped before he reached the door.
They took me past the death house, he said softly.
What?
When they was takin me to Richland, they drove me to Broad River and they
showed me the death house.
The state s capital punishment facility was located at the Broad River
Correctional Institution in Columbia, close by the reception and evaluation
center. In a move that combined psychological torture with democracy,
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prisoners convicted of capital crimes prior to 1995 were allowed to choose
between electrocution and lethal injection as their final punishment. All
others were executed by injection, as Atys Jones would be if the state
succeeded in its efforts to convict him of Marianne s murder.
They tole me I was goan be strapped down and then they was goan inject
poisons into me, and that I d be dying inside but I wouldn t be able to move
or cry out none. They tole me it be like suffocatin slow.
There was nothing I could say.
I didn t kill Marianne, he said.
I know you didn t.
But they goan kill me for it anyhow.
His resignation made me feel cold inside.
We can stop that from happening, if you help us.
But he just shook his head and loped back to the kitchen. Elliot entered the
room seconds later.
What do you think? he asked in a whisper.
He s holding something back, I replied. He ll give it to us, in time.
We don t have that kind of time, snapped Elliot.
As I followed him into the kitchen, I could see the muscles bunched beneath
his shirt, and his hands flexing and unflexing by his sides. He turned his
attention to Albert.
You need anything?
Us hab nuff bittle, said Albert.
I don t mean just food. You need more money? A gun?
The woman slammed her glass down on the table and shook her finger at Elliot.
Don pit mout on us, she said firmly.
They think having a gun in the house will bring them bad luck, Elliot said.
They may be right. What do they do if there s trouble?
Samuel lives with them, and I suspect he has less trouble with guns than they
have. I ve given them all our numbers. If anything goes wrong, they ll call
one of us. Just make sure you keep your phone with you.
I thanked them both for the lemonade, then followed Elliot to the door.
You leavin me here? cried Atys. With these two?
Dat boy ent hab no mannus, scolded the old woman. Dat boy gwi punish fuh
e wickitty. She poked at Atys with her finger.
Debblement weh dat chile lib.
Get off me, he retorted, but he looked kind of worried.
Be good, Atys, said Elliot. Watch some TV, get some sleep. Mr. Parker will
check on you tomorrow.
Atys raised his eyes to mine in a last, desperate plea.
Shit, he said, by tomorrow these two probably have eaten me.
When we left him, the old woman had just started poking him again. Outside, we
passed their son, Samuel, on the way back to the house. He was a tall,
handsome man, my age or a little younger, with large brown eyes. Elliot
introduced us and we shook hands.
Any trouble? asked Elliot.
None, Samuel confirmed. I parked outside your office. Keys are on top of
the right rear wheel.
Elliot thanked him and he headed toward the house.
You sure he ll be okay with them? I asked Elliot.
They re smart, like their boy, and the folks round here look out for them.
Any strangers come sniffing down this street and half the young bucks will be
following them before they have a chance to get their shoes dirty. As long as
he s here, and no-one finds out about it, he ll be safe.
The same faces watched us leave their streets and I thought that maybe Elliot
was right. Maybe they would take account of strangers coming into their
neighborhood.
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